The Twelve Days of Vermont
by MorganLeFay33
Summary: My fic for the Corah Christmas Exchange. Happy Holidays!


_My prompt for the Corah Christmas exchange was: "Something sickeningly Christmassy involving snow and a fireplace!"_

_I hope it's not too sickeningly Christmassy! I went all out with it. Merry Christmas, my friend. :-)_

* * *

**The Twelve Days of Vermont**

On the first day, they arrived feeling cold, exhausted, and deliriously happy.

As Cora watched Sarah inspect and fill the cupboards in their small kitchen, she wanted to jump with joy for getting away with such an elaborate scheme. She had done it all on her own, and it was going to work out beautifully. Not a soul at Downton knew that her mother was actually expecting them to arrive in New York two weeks from now. Cora was the only true stream of contact between her English and American families, so she had nothing to worry about. Renting the cabin had been easy enough. The owner had asked no questions after seeing the figure she'd offered, and Cora had managed to sneak the cost into the books so that Robert would never notice. She prided herself on being good with money – better even than her husband. It was not often that she could do things for herself – or for someone else, for that matter.

Sarah looked up at Cora and smiled weakly. Cora couldn't help but love the sight of Sarah's disheveled curls and the way her blue-grey eyes crossed slightly when she was tired. Sarah mumbled sleepily, "This'll do just fine. I'll start a fire."

They barely had enough energy to pull on their nightdresses and sink into bed. They slept soundly through the night, clinging to one another for warmth.

* * *

On the second day, they awoke shivering. They decided to drag the mattress and bedding in front of the main fireplace. They spent the entire day there, tangled in the thick quilts and in each other.

It wasn't often that they could spend more than an hour together at Downton, for they always feared that they would be caught in the act. It was a luxury to lie together all day - to linger on each other's lips, to leisurely stroke and kiss one another's soft skin, to memorize each scent and curve and taste and sound. They reveled in the shimmering reflections of the soft, flickering firelight dancing in each other's eyes.

As it grew dark, they turned to watch the snow falling outside the window, holding one another tightly and whispering words of love.

* * *

On the third day, they realized that this detour was a chance for them to have their own little Christmas celebration together. They would make it worthwhile. They wandered into the town to find Christmas decorations, returning with tinsel and holly and bright red ribbons. They tied them up all around the cabin until it sparkled more magnificently than Downton ever had. At the end of the day, they collapsed onto the temporary bed they'd made in front of the fireplace, staring up at the wooden ceiling and holding hands.

"I'll get started on supper then," Sarah said, rising with a groan.

Cora yanked her back down, leaning in to kiss her and murmur against her lips, "Not so fast. You've been working hard."

"Rubbish. You've worked much harder than I have. I can't even reach half these places where you've tied decorations." She kissed Cora back three times, tickling her side.

Cora pouted, unable to keep her down. As Sarah stood up, she continued, "Besides, I'll not have you starving. You're already skin and bones as it is. No matter how much I'm tempted to pull that dress of yours off right now, I'll not do it. You stay here and build up the fire. I'm making us a proper meal." She brushed off her skirts and marched into the kitchen, leaving Cora to give a silent prayer of thanks for having such a good, caring woman in her life.

* * *

On the fourth day, they ventured into the wilderness in search of a Christmas tree.

It all felt so dangerous to Cora, who hadn't spent much time outdoors. She managed to find some snowshoes and an axe in the shed behind the cabin.

"Give it here," Sarah commanded brusquely, motioning for her to hand it over.

Cora was in awe of how quickly Sarah moved across the thick snow, carrying the heavy tool as if she'd been doing this all her life. Within minutes, they came across a small fir that looked suitable. Sarah barely took one look at it before swinging the axe. Cora giggled as the tree came toppling down in one clean blow.

"What's funny?" she asked irritably, thinking Cora was making fun of her.

"Nothing, nothing!" she stuttered apologetically. "I…you amaze me sometimes. I didn't know you were so good at this."

Sarah looked back at her lady, feeling slightly chuffed that she'd managed to impress her without realizing it. She felt no guilt at all for bringing about the embarrassed, lovely rosy glow in Cora's already wind-chapped cheeks.

"Thank you," Sarah answered gruffly, trying not to reveal too obviously the pride she felt. "Now _you're _going to have to help me drag this home."

_Home_. Cora liked hearing her say that.

Cora finished the last of the decorations by hanging a golden star on top of the tree. Sarah hollered in joy, clapping and chortling with beautiful enthusiasm that Cora wished her lover would show to the rest of the world.

* * *

On the fifth day, Cora tried and failed to bake Christmas cookies. Sarah knew she shouldn't have left her to it, but Cora had emphatically ushered her out of the kitchen. As Sarah sat sewing by the fire, she heard a little shriek and immediately ran to see what was wrong.

The kitchen was in a complete state of disarray, with pots and pans and baking ingredients everywhere. Cora stood in front of the oven, petrified as one of the charred lumps on her baking tray burned with a tiny flame. Sarah ran to get some water, pushed Cora out of the way, and doused the fire, cursing heavily throughout.

She wiped her brow and turned to see Cora leaning stiffly against the wall, eyes wide in fear, covered from head to toe in baking flour and sticky molasses. Sarah began to laugh heartily at the sight of her.

"Come here love," she said with an affectionate roll of her eyes. She sat Cora atop the counter and slowly washed the flour from her face and apron. Sarah pulled bits of crumbs and chocolate out of her hair, chuckling merrily and stealing occasional kisses from her frowning lips.

"I'm so sorry," Cora said dejectedly. "I had wanted to do something special."

"You should've just let me do it," Sarah replied kindly.

"But that would have ruined the whole point of it!" Cora insisted. "I wanted to do something for _you_."

"You got us here, didn't you? You don't think that's enough?" Sarah's expression was serious and earnest, so full of devotion that Cora couldn't help but grab her face and pull her in for a long kiss.

They didn't get much farther than the kitchen after that. They made love against the countertop and on the flour-dusted floor. The mess took time to clean up, but they couldn't have cared less.

* * *

On the sixth day, they were lazy. They napped and cuddled - among other usual things - and finished off an entire bottle of brandy between the two of them. They pulled out all the books in the small bookshelf and decided on the _Arabian Nights_. They drunkenly read endless stories out loud to one another, imitating the voices of the characters and splitting their sides in laughter. They drank themselves into a stupor, until the surrounding Christmas ornaments looked like blurry splotches of gold and silver floating in circles around their heads.

* * *

On the seventh day, they told secrets. These were not painful secrets – those had already been confessed and forgiven over a year ago. These secrets were a relief to tell, no matter how heavy.

It had started when they decided to have a late lunch at a nearby pub. When a pair of young, American newlyweds sat beside them, Sarah remarked sarcastically, "That poor sod and his wife. I wonder how long he's been pretending not to fancy that lad over there," and she pointed toward the man behind the counter. It was true. His attention was fixed on the other man and not on his wife.

Cora suddenly thought to ask her, "Sarah, who was the first girl you ever loved?"

Sarah's eyebrows shot toward the ceiling and she opened and closed her mouth, unsure of how to reply. She hadn't been expecting this question from Cora, and she feared that telling the truth might do more harm than good.

"I want to know, darling," Cora said beguilingly, nudging Sarah's foot beneath their table. "Please tell me the truth. I'll tell _you _the truth."

The secrets came pouring out – first while they finished their meal, then as they walked through the snow-covered streets, then as they sat in the armchairs of the cabin across from the roaring fire, and finally as they lay together in bed.

Sarah's first love had been a cruel, golden-haired farm girl named Eileen. Sarah had tried to kiss her when they were sixteen, and Eileen had threatened to tell on Sarah unless she did her chores for her – and so a life of bitter servitude had begun. After that, there'd been a fellow housemaid, a depressed schoolteacher, and one young man who'd been more of an experiment than anything. It broke Cora's heart to learn that she herself had been the source of Sarah's long years of silent suffering. Cora had been infatuated with many women (most were older than she was), only realizing later that it had been more than just mere admiration. Sarah was the first woman she truly loved, and it made Sarah feel oddly ecstatic to know it. They talked of courtships and of broken hearts and of sex. They confessed sins. Sarah's stories about the atrocious things she'd done to her fellow servants were enough to make Cora feel less guilty about her own confession that she'd nearly hated Mary when her eldest daughter was an adolescent. Cora thought that she'd given birth to a hostile stranger. They didn't even speak in the same way, and Mary would never let her forget it. They got on well enough now, but Cora continued to think on that time with a pinch of sadness. Cora had always felt lonely at Downton. It wasn't until Sarah O'Brien arrived that the loneliness began to subside.

* * *

On the eighth day, the sun was out and they decided to play in the snow like children. They bundled up in thick coats and made snowmen and snow angels. Cora proved herself to be an expert craftswoman, sculpting an exquisitely lifelike reindeer with intense concentration until interrupted when Sarah threw a lump of snow at her. Their innocent games descended into a comically competitive snowball fight. By the end of it, they were both so covered in snow that they chattered their teeth all the way back to the cabin and danced around in shivers until Sarah could heat enough water for a bath.

Sarah sighed in the bath and leaned back against Cora, running her hands over her lady's long legs and closing her eyes in bliss. As Cora scrubbed Sarah's body with leisurely circles of her sponge, Sarah muttered,

"You're a good artist. That was a lovely reindeer you made."

Cora kissed her shoulder and replied, "You are by far a lovelier work of art, my dear."

* * *

On the ninth day, they prepared their own personal Christmas feast. Sarah was patient with Cora, teaching her all she could. They cooked side-by-side, teasingly bumping hips and giggling.

After supper, they brushed the frost off the rocking chair on the front porch, wrapped themselves tightly in blankets, and squeezed together to view the sparkling stars in the clear night sky. As Cora sat in Sarah's lap on the chair, they playfully argued over which star was the northern one, rocking gently back and forth until Cora fell asleep and Sarah carried her inside.

* * *

On the tenth day, they went to an Advent service in the town's small church. It was a thrill to appear in public together, linking arms and holding hands. They were gestures any two female friends could have made, but there was something special about shedding their titles. No one knew they were the Countess of Grantham and Miss O'Brien – they were just Cora and Sarah. They sang Christmas carols at the tops of their lungs with the congregation, letting the festive atmosphere of the crowd sink into them until they were giddy with Christmas spirit.

After sharing some apple cider with the other churchgoers, they walked home arm-in-arm, feeling a fresh snowfall beginning. Sarah stopped to find the key to the cabin door, but ceased her searching when she caught a glimpse of Cora. Sarah's heart stopped at the sight of her lover, snowflakes falling softly onto her eyelashes and into her dark hair. Her glittering blue eyes and red lips were striking against her snow-sprinkled face. Sarah's breath hitched – Cora looked like a magical winter queen. Sarah stood temporarily dumbfounded, once again taken aback by the sheer beauty of her lady.

Cora grinned slyly. "Well? Are you going to open the door or not?"

Sarah swallowed and nodded, trying to keep her hands from trembling as she fiddled with the clasp on her bag. She felt self-conscious, aware of Cora's eyes on her as she opened the door. Cora suddenly stopped her, laying her delicate hand on Sarah's arm. She pointed to the ceiling and said in a seductive voice, "Sarah, I must confess that I bought something in town without your knowing."

Sarah glanced up at the doorframe, becoming immobile as soon as she saw that familiar green bushel tied to the ceiling.

Cora laughed at Sarah's surprise and seemed a little puzzled as she asked, "Aren't you going to kiss me? You _do _know what it means to be caught standing under the mistletoe, don't you?"

Of course Sarah knew. She felt silly for being so stunned, but it happened from time to time. Cora had that effect on her. "I know," she managed to say hoarsely, her entire body quivering. "You're …Cora…I'm…I'm just…"

Cora didn't waste any more time. She pulled Sarah into her embrace and kissed her passionately, feeling the heat rise in the other woman's cheeks.

"Sarah, please give me the chance to show you how much you mean to me, how much I love you." Cora took her by the hand and led her inside.

There was something different about this time, about this day. Whatever it was that caused them to gravitate toward one another – it was stronger than it had ever been. Cora laid her lover down on their bed in front of the warm fireplace. Every caress nearly burned Sarah's skin, and Sarah cried out with an intensity that she'd never before allowed herself to express. Cora gazed deeply into Sarah's eyes the entire time, never once letting her vision stray. The two of them remained there throughout the rest of the day, until long after sunset. Neither of them noticed the exact point when the snow stopped falling.

* * *

On the eleventh day, Cora cried.

"I don't want this to end," she sniffled. "I don't want to go back. I want to stay here with you forever."

Sarah brought her a hot cup of tea and sat next to her at the little wooden table. She grasped Cora's hand and replied, "I don't want us to leave either, but you have to, love."

"Why do I have to?" Cora huffed indignantly. She already knew the answer.

"There are three girls back in England who need their mum."

"No they don't. They never have. They're grown anyway," Cora answered sadly.

"Everyone needs their parents, even grown ladies. They might've given us a bloody headache while they were growing up, but they need you just as much as I do."

Cora nodded in understanding. It was rare for Sarah to speak so compassionately about others, and Cora was touched.

"Besides," Sarah added teasingly, "I don't want to see you crying. We've got two whole days left, and _I, _for one, plan to enjoy them."

* * *

On the twelfth day, Sarah cried.

They had decided to wait until the last day to exchange the gifts they'd been planning to give on Christmas.

They sat beside their Christmas tree in their dressing gowns, delighting in the warmth of the fire and the fresh pine aroma filling the cabin. Sarah was confused when she first untied the ribbon and opened the little box.

Cora reached out and laid her hand gently on Sarah's. "First, let me explain. When I was a young girl, my grandmother gave me this ring. It was her wedding ring. She always said that she wanted me to wear it as my own wedding ring, but…" They both knew why Cora hadn't. It simply wasn't allowed. There had, of course, been a ring given to her – but one that was a part of the Crawley family legacy. "Sarah, I want you to keep it. If I could marry again, and marry anyone in this world, you have to know that it would be you. I know that it's silly to even think about it, but just suppose…" Cora lifted Sarah's shaking hand and slid the ring onto her finger.

After the first wave of shock had passed over her, Sarah's eyes filled with tears and she tried to wipe her face with her sleeve, repeatedly mumbling, "You don't have to…Cora…"

"I certainly do," Cora answered, brushing Sarah's long hair out of her face. "You're the love of my life, Sarah. Just whom else am I supposed to give it to?"

As Sarah wept quietly into her lady's shoulder, Cora kissed her temple and teased, "I thought you said that you didn't want to see any crying for the rest of our holiday."

"That's different. You have…so much. You're all I have. You're everything."

"Don't you start," Cora cooed as they hugged each other tightly. "_You're_ everything to _me_, Sarah. You heard me yesterday – I would gladly stay here with you."

Sarah finally pulled herself together enough to kiss Cora's soft hand and admire the ring. It was a beautiful golden ring, and Sarah decided that she would never take it off.

"Should've given me five of them," Sarah joked hoarsely.

Cora laughed and squeezed her lover tightly from behind, saying, "I hope you wear it always."

Sarah leaned into Cora's embrace for several minutes, running her hands across her lady's crossed arms and breathing deeply, inhaling Cora's captivating scent and feeling Cora's chest rise and fall against her back. Sarah had never been happier in her life.

"Oh, God," Sarah suddenly said dismally. "You're going to hate my gift. After _this_, it's just..."

"I am sure that is not true," Cora assured her sweetly. "I'll be happy with anything."

Sarah nervously handed her the heavy package. "It's just something I was working on for a while. I thought…I don't know what I thought…"

Cora unwrapped the parcel, a look of childlike wonder in her bright eyes. "Oh my! This is beautiful!" She unfolded the giant quilt onto the floor, admiring it in awe. Sarah had clearly spent a great deal of time on it. Each square depicted something or someone dear to Cora – a masterpiece collage of her favorite things and her favorite moments. "There's one problem -"

Upon seeing Sarah's disappointed and hurt face, Cora rushed to continue, "You're not in it. I see every single member of my family, but…"

Sarah felt relieved and responded, "I wanted you to be able to use it without anyone knowing about…but I'm right here – look!" She pointed to the last square, depicting a little snow-covered cabin surrounded by tall trees. She'd completed it in secret while they were here.

Cora turned to her, beaming. "Oh Sarah, my darling, I am so grateful for this, for you. This is the best Christmas I have ever had."

* * *

"What in hell is that? You married now? Did you go all the way to New York to find yourself a secret American husband?" Thomas gestured his lit cigarette toward O'Brien's finger.

She pulled her hand away quickly, not wanting anything to mar the ring's shine. "It's just a ring. Someone gave it to me for Christmas and I like it, and that's all."

"Sure it is," he smirked, blowing a ring of smoke in her face. "You're going to need to explain yourself to old Hughsie. She'll think you're married."

She flinched and responded bitterly, "No, she won't. Leave it be."

Thomas put out his cigarette and went back inside, leaving Sarah to glance furtively down at the golden ring and think on nothing but twelve glorious days in Vermont.

* * *

_xoxo, _

_Morgana_


End file.
